


Ache

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-31
Updated: 2007-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney wakes with a belly ache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ache

Rodney wakes with a belly ache just after three in the morning – a low, gnawing pain that speaks of too much coffee and too little sleep, powerbars instead of meals, unremitting pressure, anxiety about the next nameless threat that's surely gathering in the wings. He turns on his side, worrying his cheek against the pillow, whining softly as he curls in on himself. There's nothing for it but to wait it out – everyday remedies are in short supply, and the Daedelus is still two weeks away. (Not that he won't have need of Tums and Pepto Bismol in two weeks, he reasons, but it isn't helping the ache in his belly right now).

He's almost ready to give up and trudge to the mess for the peppermint tea Teyla swears fixes everything when John stirs beside him, grumbles and plasters himself up against Rodney's back. "Mmmph?" he asks.

Rodney can't see his face, but can imagine John's sleepy-eyed, slow-blinking look of concern. "S'nothing. Go back to sleep."

John hmmmphs his dismissal of that idea and brushes his nose against the back of Rodney's neck. "Stomach ache?" he asks.

It's a little humiliating to realize this is so common a thing as to be immediately apparent to a guy who's still 9/10ths unconscious. "Yeah," Rodney mumbles, hiding his face in the pillow a little more, legs moving restlessly, an expression of his discomfort.

"C'mere," John rumbles, the sound traveling by feeling through Rodney's back, and he slides a hand over Rodney's hip, nudges his arms away and spreads his fingers wide over the spot where it aches.

It shouldn't help – it's a touch, not an alkaline fix – but Rodney relaxes a fraction at the warmth that pools beneath John's broad hand. "Thanks," he murmurs, resting his own hand on top of John's.

"Mmmmph," John says intelligently, and goes lax behind him, surrendering to sleep as he always does – instantly – still holding Rodney close.


End file.
